


Feel It In My Bones

by EllaWinchester24



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Is Kind Of A Jerk, Banter, But only for a bit, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hurt!Eames, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Top!Arthur, Kisses, Limbo, M/M, Misunderstandings, Ooh And Possessive!Arthur, Protective!Arthur, Romance I guess?, Shit There's A Lot Of Fluff, Since I Can't Write It Properly, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaWinchester24/pseuds/EllaWinchester24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is stretched out on the sand, sun dazzling in his eyes as he blinks and sits up. Looking around, he realizes there isn’t anything for miles ahead, just the glorious sun pouring down and clear, blue water lapping against the shore. </p><p>Slowly, something begins to poke at his mind- something struggling to come to the forefront of his consciousness.</p><p><i>Eames</i>.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Eames is tired of them dancing around each other and goes for the prize, only to have Arthur pull a Dean Winchester on him. Only for a while, though. Because apparently, limbo <i>isn't</i> completely a bad thing and helps relationships blossom. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel It In My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST INCEPTION FIC!  
> :D :D :D
> 
> Sorry, I'm just really excited. :)  
> Okay, this was supposed to be a tiny one-shot, only it kinda got bigger than that. Waaaaaaaay bigger.  
> Anyway, here it is.  
> I know there are a lot of loopholes in this, but fuck it, my exams are almost upon me and this is my parting gift to AO3. >.

It was supposed to be a regular job, Arthur tells himself.

 

 _They always are, love_ , the Eames sitting in his mind, whispers.

 

He genuinely hadn’t expected anything to go wrong.

 

_No imagination, darling. None._

 

Only it had.

 

Everything had gone wrong and all because of him. 

 

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the job as the PASIV takes them down another level.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“We should move quickly,” he says the moment his eyes open in the third dream level. “I can hear the music already.”

 

The team mutters an affirmative before slipping out of the motel room to go finish their individual missions. Only Eames remains, sitting on the bed looking down at his folded hands.

 

Arthur’s never seen him so quiet. It’s putting him off-kilter.

 

“Eames?” he asks, not daring to approach the other man. “Shouldn’t you move out as well?”

 

Slowly, the forger gets up and gathers his requisites before silently beginning to move out of the room. Arthur knows it’s pointless to try and stop him, to try and _talk_ , but he can’t help it. He reaches out to grab his colleague’s elbow- 

 

“Eames, what’s-”

 

-only to be roughly shaken off.

 

He lets the other man pass.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

_“Bloody hell, Arthur- that was…nghhh… that was Ferragamo, you plonker,” Eames whispered, half in fury and half in amusement._

_After all, it wasn’t every day that one saw the famous_ Arthur _lose his composure enough to, honest-to-God, tear off someone’s suit._

_“Shut up,” Arthur replied, fingers working nimbly on his trousers. “You have no idea what…Every day, you show up,”-kiss-“wearing some ridiculous paisley shirt,”-kiss-“committing actual, veritable sacrilege against my eyes”-kiss-“and_ today _, you think of wearing a fucking perfect suit? When you knew all those grabby morons would be looking for something exactly like you, to dig into?”_

_Eames grinned at the frustrated tone of his colleague, herding them to the hotel bed. “Didn’t peg you for the jealous sort, darling. But, allow me to assure you- I wouldn’t have ever dared to even consider them, when my virtue is already promised to you.”_

_Arthur drew back at that, pausing his desperate snatching. “Virtue?”_

_The forger rolled his eyes. “Yes, love. Virtue. Now, if you don’t mind- how about we get to the bit where you divest me of it, already?”_

_There were warning bells clanging in Arthur’s head, louder than ever, practically yelling at him to stop and think all of this through._

_He grinned predatorily and pinned Eames down._

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

Arthur had planned it all out very carefully in his mind- no relationships, no dating, nothing _intimate_ , while he was still part of the dream-sharing community.

 

He’d stuck to it. He’d stuck to his motto religiously for almost a decade. He’d survived without any ties holding him back or acting as leverage for nine and a half years.

 

Though temptation had snuck in only six years ago, in the form of one very dashing, very British, rugged forger.

 

He hadn’t accounted for meeting someone like Eames. Hadn’t known his kryptonite would be smooth-talking, sneaky, dishonestly loyal thieves. But it was, and his heart had jumped at the first thrill of excitement and connection he’d felt in years.

 

It felt like waking up to soft sunshine spilling onto you, slowly warming every part of your body till it had been soaked up by every nerve. Like the bone-deep tingling you felt before getting on a rollercoaster you’d wanted to ride for ages. 

 

It had slowly taken over his heart- the feeling settling in deeper with every job they worked together; every time one’s trigger stopped the other’s suffering; every last-minute tour of the city they were in, a few hours before their flights took them apart again.

 

But there’s a reason why Arthur is one of the most desirable point-men in the community. 

 

Hawk-like focus, they say.

 

If his brain decides something, not even incepting the contrary would work.

 

And his brain had already decided. 

 

Anything that interferes with the job? Needs to be put away and put away permanently.

 

Only problem is, he isn’t quite willing to put Eames away. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

_“Arthur, don’t- Christ… don’t st-stop, please, fuckfuckfuck.”_

_“Don’t plan to.” Arthur whispered before thrusting back in. Eames moaned and shuddered, coming all over his chest with a soft gasp._

_Arthur pulled back out to slam in again, but he was stopped._

_“How about- could we maybe… you know, go slow?” Eames stammered a little, steady blush lighting up his cheeks. “I mean, if you want to, we could always-”_

_Arthur pressed his lips against the other’s. “Slow is good,” he said, beginning to gently rock against Eames._

_Slow_ is _good._

_What slow also is-_

_“Ahhh, Arthur…”_

_-is_ making love.

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

He can’t believe he didn’t see it.

 

It had been right in front of his nose and he hadn’t seen it.

 

Zachary had always been a dubious character, someone he hadn’t even heard of properly- let alone worked with before. But they needed a chemist since Yusuf had backed out last moment and this was the only guy willing to take on a job this serious. Arthur should have checked him out, only he was busy.

 

Wallowing in his self-righteousness and pity.

 

He’d just been glad someone had stepped up at the eleventh hour and gone back to micromanaging every detail, while telling his heart to behave and not clench every time Eames went another day without saying more than a few words.

 

Only now, the problem is, the blonde dirtbag has a gun trained on Eames, while the rest of the team lies injured and surrounded by angry projections. 

 

That isn’t even the infuriating part- it isn’t Eames that he’s threatening.

 

Oh no. 

 

He’s trying to negotiate with _Arthur_ , his Glock pointed at the only man Arthur will ever call his.

 

The point man knows the slimeball is trying to extort money or favors or _something_ from him- as he shouts at him from the edge of the building’s roof- but frankly the only things he can hear are, ‘too heavily sedated’ and ‘fall right into limbo’.

 

Panic begins to bubble up in his chest, an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t have a contingency plan for this. He doesn’t know what to do or how to deal with this sudden development of events, has no idea of how to squirm his way out of this one.

 

His fear must show on his face, because the maniac laughs and tells him again about how he has no other options left- either give him what he wants, or lose Eames to that horrible fake-reality.

 

It’s a split second, but Arthur considers it. 

 

Considers what it would be like, letting Eames drop into limbo so that Zachary loses his leverage.

 

It wouldn’t affect the world, right? No earthquakes, no tsunamis. The earth will continue spinning, the birds will chirp and life will go on.

 

But he can’t.

 

 _Won’t be able to_.

 

Because he can’t imagine what his world will be like without that rough accent ringing him up at 2 in the morning to quote some clichéd Hallmark movie line, can’t imagine what it will be like not having ridiculous gifts arriving at his home or hotel or warehouse on Hanukah, of all days, or even his birthday when people have barely bothered to call. 

 

He can’t imagine never feeling Eames against his body ever again, or forgetting the woodsy feel of him on his tongue. He doesn’t _want_ to live without whispering soft nothings into his ear as they fall asleep, safe and content for the first time in years.

 

Safe to say, this asshole is going to have to fight Arthur if he thinks he can get away with this.

 

But Zachary, the jerk, simply presses the gun right to Eames’ forehead when he moves forward menacingly.

 

It’s a stalemate, of sorts. He can’t move without Eames being shot and there is no way he’s taking that chance.

 

The forger doesn’t seem to share his thoughts.

 

A look of wild desperation crosses his face and instantly Arthur is shaking his head, already shooting down his most-likely insane idea with simply a warning glance.

 

Eames understands.

 

Arthur knows Eames understands and that he understands very well, because when you’ve been working together for the past decade, in the intimate way that they’ve been- you recognize every look, every breath, and you _know_.

 

But, apparently, Eames doesn’t because he’s shaking his head like he’s to blame for all of this. 

 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts over the suddenly loud wind and the whirring of a helicopter, full of projections, arriving. 

 

Arthur is already screaming _no, don’t do it_ , because this means it’s over- it’s the end and he’s never going to know what it’s like to talk to this brilliant man, ever again- and then, Eames firmly shoves Zachary away, turning to the ledge.

 

With one last longing look at Arthur, he faces the open skies.

 

And lets himself fall.

 

He lets himself fall and really, what else can Arthur do but follow?

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

They’re on some kind of a beach.

 

Arthur is stretched out on the sand, sun dazzling in his eyes as he blinks and sits up. Looking around, he realizes there isn’t anything for miles ahead, just the glorious sun pouring down and clear, blue water lapping against the shore. 

 

Slowly, something begins to poke at his mind- something struggling to come to the forefront of his consciousness.

 

 _Eames_.

 

He scrambles up to his feet, frantically looking around for ~~his~~ the forger. But every which way he turns, he’s met by golden sand and the emptiness of the beach echoes hollowly in his heart.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“EAMES!” he yells for the umpteenth time, walking the tenth- eleventh?- mile of the beach.

 

Silence.

 

“Eames?” he rasps out, panting with the strain of shouting for hours. “I know you’re here, you bastard! Where _are_ you?”

 

Silence.

 

“Come on, you moron, speak UP! I threw my Ferragamo into the water for you, how much are you going to make me suffer?”

 

“No one _asked_ you to jump, clotpole,” a voice yells back at him and the relief that thrums under his skin is so overwhelming, Arthur’s knees almost buckle. Instead, he turns to face his angry companion. “God knows I certainly didn’t.”

 

Eames looks… different. That is to say, he finally looks like himself, after weeks of being clad in a three-piece. Arthur has never been so glad to see the other man clad in paisley. He’s standing in the water next to some sort of boat, wearing some ridiculous shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and trousers soaked up till the knees. 

 

He’s also sporting a furiously angry expression. 

 

“What the hell were you thinking, huh?” he asks, striding forward and angrily stabbing a finger in Arthur’s chest. “The whole point of me jumping was to make sure that wanker didn’t have any leverage against you!”

 

Arthur glares at him. “You weren’t leverage, Eames, you-”

 

“Oh no, that’s right. How could I ever be leverage, right? I was just a one-night shag, something you just had to have because you didn’t like the fact that there were others who might’ve had a chance to take me-”

 

“Eames, that’s not what I-”

 

“No, I wasn’t leverage. I was just a colleague you had to dive after, because the great Arthur has a Reputation of being moral and righteous and loyal, and God forbid, anyone ever try to make a dent in that Reputation-”

 

“Would you just listen to-”

 

“NO!” Eames snapped and Arthur recoiled at the _emotion_ in his voice. The other man was looking at him, expression open and hurt. “No, Arthur, I won’t listen! Not when _you_ didn’t, when I told you to not leave me in the morning and you still- you still…”

 

Arthur watched as the other man took heaving breaths, closing his eyes, like he was trying to pull out some semblance of self-control. 

 

“Arthur,” he started, much more quietly. “I- we’ve been playing this game for a long time. Dancing around, pressing close but stopping short of just that one inch… When you- that night when we,” he swallowed. “I honestly thought that we were done playing. I told you what it meant to me, you _knew_ what it meant to me and the next morning when I- oh sod my life, it doesn’t matter, let’s just forget it.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not.”

 

Eames was already drawing back, face looking down, but at that he looked up, eyes holding depths of fear, tinged with slight anger. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t return my- it doesn’t matter, alright? But don’t you…don’t you bloody try to make fun of me for it, because I will not-”

 

“Eames, I’m not going to make fun of you for it,” Arthur moves forward, and keeps doing so when Eames nervously sidles back. 

 

He stares suspiciously, before snorting and asking, “Going to punch me in my lovely mug, Arthur?”

 

 _Only with my mouth_ , Arthur would like to say, but he’s pretty sure that’s too sweet, even for Eames. He settles for rolling his eyes, finally letting a smile play on his lips. “Not in the least. Try again.”

 

Eames licks his lips slowly, and Arthur watches the motion hungrily. “I don’t know, Arthur. What are you going to do?”

 

“Glad you asked,” he says, right before grabbing both of Eames’ hands. “I’m going to back you up against the wall of the cottage you I just dreamed up, and then I’m going to kiss the life out of you. When I’m satisfied, we’re going to find a way out of here and go take care of that traitorous idiot. Then, we’ll wake up in the real world and I’m going to take you out on a date. Okay?”

 

Eames is so struck by the sudden change of tide in the proceedings that he begins to nod, before suddenly snapping out of it. Pulling away, he walks backward, until he’s standing several yards away with a scowl on his face.

 

“No, actually. It isn’t okay,” he spits out. “I’m not some Victorian damsel, you tool, and I don’t see why I should come rushing back into your arms if you can’t even tell me what made you leave that first day.”

 

Arthur swallows and closes his eyes. “You’re right.”

 

Eames stares at him like he grew another head. It makes him huff and so he does, slowly settling back down on the sand. “You are right. I do owe you an explanation. Want to sit down and give me another chance?”

 

Eames looks at him a tad suspiciously before slowly following suit. 

 

He smiles. “It’s not a very original reason, I think. One I never thought I’d have to explain. But, you’re here now and out there, it was just-” running his hands through his hair, he tries to cool his frustration and start over.

 

“I’d just joined the community when I first saw it happen. Our first deal- a man shooting at us just because his employers (our enemies) had his fiancé. The worst part was that he wasn’t even a bad person, just a regular guy who’d just retired from the security business. We managed to escape him only to hear he’d been killed. After watching his fiancé get tortured for hours.”

 

Eames winces.

 

“Then, a couple of months later, we came across Cobol threatening a hit man, pointing a gun at his boyfriend. And it went on and on and on and eventually, it got to the point that I couldn’t even consider asking a girl for her number without imagining what it would be like if someone like Zachary got their hands on her for leverage.”

 

“So, why are you willing to give us a shot?” Eames asks and he can tell the question isn’t sarcastic or mocking. He’s genuinely curious and wants a reason.

 

A good one.

 

Arthur smiles inwardly, thanking those hours spent walking in the sand, trying to figure out the answer to that, himself.

 

“Because it’s you,” he says simply. Eames flushes a little at the sap, but keeps looking at him expectantly, so he decides to go all in. “Because it’s you and me. Because I can’t possibly imagine a world where you don’t send me a text every day, asking if I need assistance removing that stick up my arse. A world where I don’t have to keep deleting the ridiculous videos you send me-”

 

“The monkey dancing on a beer bottle one was legitimately funny, darling-”

 

“Or,” Arthur continues, trying not to let his happiness at the endearment show. “One where I don’t scan the list of people who’ve signed up for a job, looking and hoping for your name. Every. Damn. Time.”

 

Eames has to stifle a laugh at that, but his delight shows in the way he swings a leg over Arthur’s, moving to straddle him. “Is that all?”

 

Arthur grins. “ _And_ because I’m willing to risk it. After all, it’s much better having a taste of the wine and enjoying myself than resisting it while miserably trying to feel happy with the bouquet.”

 

Eames throws his head back at that, and laughs. “I can’t believe you used a Twilight reference for this,” he whispers, ducking down to rest his forehead against Arthur’s.

 

“I can’t believe you _understood_ that it was a Twilight reference.”

 

“Yes well, someone wanted to make sure I watched all the movies after we got pissed drunk,” Eames is rolling his eyes, but at the same time, Arthur can feel the words _against his lips_ , so it’s okay.

 

It’s all okay.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

(For everyone except Zachary- they totally kick his ass when they come up)

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if you see any errors! Oh and like I said, feedback would be lovely! :D <3
> 
> [Say hi to me on [tumblr](fiftyshadesofkawaii.tumblr.com) bc I will probs love you forever if you become my friend]


End file.
